


FHOT7/ AHOT6 GTA Crossover

by dickjokesanddoilies



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Shiphaus
Genre: GTA V AU, Multi, OT7, RageHappy, Shiphaus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickjokesanddoilies/pseuds/dickjokesanddoilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first Funhaus OT7 GTA- oh no, wait, somebody already did that. Well, this one has the Fake AH Crew being badasses and also implied Adam/Geoff, so there's that! Enjoy cuties!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Doghaus

      Adam's butt ached with the way his weight pressed it into the chilly cement floor, making him squirm. Tallyingallof his injuries up, he also noted the near-violent way his head was pounding. That was probably from his head being smashed into the pavement, he reflected bitterly. 

  


    The rest of his crew stewed in their silent rage at having being ambushed and taken down so easily. They were the "wildly unpredictable, extremely deadly, rising stars of the crime world" according to every newspaper you could find nowadays. Yet here they were, locked up in some shitty warehouse cellar completely at the mercy of their captors. 

  


"Shit." James mouthed, mostly to himself, holding his head in his scrapped up hands. 

  


    They'd given up so easily; all the enemy had had to do was have one guy put a gun to Lawrence's head, and Funhaus had given up instantly. There'd been something about the way the guy had glanced around at all of them that rubbed Adam the wrong way. It was almost as if he knew The Funhaus Crew's secret. How had they known? Had Funhaus's worst nightmare come true? Had their biggest, most crippling weakness been revealed somehow? They were SO careful-

  


    Adam's frustrated thoughts were interrupted by the telltale sign of a door being unlocked, followed by the thud of heavy footsteps. 

  


"Fuckin finally." He muttered under his breath, but internally every panic alarm was going off. Adam didn't know what they were doing in this place, what they'd been taken for ( though he had a pretty good idea, what with the reckless crime sprees and all). He didn't know what those wild looking men would do to his boys, or what HE would do if they tried anything. 

  


"You, Kovic," A broad-shouldered man with sandy blonde hair pointed a heavy finger at him once he'd descended the staircase, a frightening gleam in his blue eyes. 

  


     Adam scrambled to place when he'd seen this man when they'd been attacked during their latest heist. He resurfaced empty-handed. Heaving a sigh, Adam rose to his feet with only a little difficulty, hurting everywhere, but determined not to show it on his face. He winced slightly as the handsome stranger gripped him by the arm, having apparently decided Adam was moving too slowly for his liking. 

  


       Bruce rose to his feet, clutching at the bars, and opened his mouth to shout a protest at Adam's harsh treatment, but Joel reached over and squeezed the man's arm before Bruce could make a sound. The quiet urgency of the sniper's touch had Bruce clamping his mouth shut, but a murderous look remained on his usually jovial face. The blonde man smiled sweetly at it as if Bruce were nothing more than a silly child making faces at him. 

  


     "It'll be okay." Adam mouthed to Lawrence, whose face was heavy with worry and bewilderment.

  


      Lies, all lies; but Adam knew Lawrence would be blaming himself for all of this. And Lawrence was the rock of the group; they needed big, supportive Lawrence, confident Lawrence, not sad sack Sonntag.

  


        He struggled to keep his footing as the surprisingly-strong man hauled him up rickety wooden steps. Adam took in his surroundings as they reached the first floor, surprised that he hadn't been blindfolded. 

  


"This must not be their main base of operations." He thought fleetingly, wrinkling his nose at the dust and cobwebs that decorated nearly every corner of the hall. 

  


"Sorry, we would've cleaned up if we knew we were having company." The broad shouldered man snarked, startling Adam slightly. 

  


"Very funny." He muttered, wincing again as they suddenly took a sharp turn. 

  


"I thought so." The man commented in a light, amused voice. Adam could feel himself being batted around like a cat toy by this oddly- sassy man. 

  


"Hold up a sec, Boss wants me to knock first." 

  


      Adam wasn't stupid enough to even consider trying to make a break for it as his captor released the iron clad grip to rap twice on the door. 

  


"Doors open, asshole." was the lazy response they received. 

  


"You know," the sassy, blond man began casually, " we nearly went insane trying to track you down, Kovic." 

  


     A young man with auburn curls sat on the lip of the table, apparently waiting for them,and he snorted at the other man's comment.

  


"What do you by "went" Rybread? You were always fuckin cuckoo." 

      Adam's blood turned to ice as it suddenly hit him. Oh god, he knew EXACTLY who this man was. The fact that Haywood had let them see his true face did not bode well for them. Adam was so stunned by this new information that he barely even noticed as he was forced into a chair. 

  


"The fucks wrong with 'im?" The curly haired man frowned, "Goddamnit, did you break them already?" 

  


"Nah." Ryan replied simply, still with that small smile that now made Adam's skin crawl. 

  


      He closed his eyes tightly, his brain immediately taking him back to the ambush. They'd been in City Central Bank, nearly finished with the heist Spoole had stolen from the FAH Crew's system. Bruce had warned them all that fucking with the fearsome seven would lead them to trouble, but obviously none of them had really cared about trouble. Hell, trouble was basically their industry. 

  


      His memory played over and over again the sickening image of the skull-masked man socking James right in the eye. Adam was honestly thankful for not being able to see the expression that had been on Ryan's face; no doubt Haywood must've taken some perverse pleasure in beating Adam's goofball boyfriend. He clenched his fists in ill concealed fury. 

  


      And Michael Jones's face was not one Adam would soon forget. In fact, that savage, jagged look on Michael's face might stick with him forever. Even now, he could see with perfect clarity the way the barrel of Michael's pistol had dug into Lawrence's temple, leaving a red mark in its place even after the firearm had been removed. 

  


" Ramsey's pet boy."  Adam thought with contempt, his lip curling in disgust. Michael simply blinked big, brown eyes at him, broadcasting just how few fucks he gave.  

  


"Problem, Kovic?" Michael asked innocently, a cruel smirk flickering on and off. 

  


      Adam's sharp retort ( that probably would have only caused him pain in the end) was cut off by two strong knocks on the door. Adam sucked in a breath as a third man entered the musty-smelling room.  Oh no, oh shit. 

  


      All the oxygen in Adam's lungs felt like they were being sucked up by lazy, smiling, heavy lidded eyes. He wanted more than anything to slam his eyes shut again, and just pretend he wasn't seeing what-or whom- he was seeing. But he found it was impossible for him to look anywhere but at the horrifically familiar set of handsome, rugged features. 

  


"G-Geoffrey?" He choked out, his throat catching on the last syllable fittingly. 

  


     It was indeed Geoffrey Lazer giggling before him, and Adam felt like sinking through the splintery floorboards. Now, he not only had to deal with all of his injured crew, but also this ghost of his past popping back up in the worst possible way. The Fake AH Crew's leader was a ruthless, faceless entity known in the media only as Ramsey. This was what Adam knew to be true. Yet here, the universe seemed to be telling him that his old...friend, Geoffrey Lazer, and Ramsey were one and the same. 

  


"Hey buddy! Long time no see. Let's catch up, shall we?"

  
     Adam felt like he was going to be sick


	2. An Old...Friend?

  


     Adam's dark eyes tracked Geoff's every move, waiting in rising hysteria for the tattooed man to speak as he paced back and forth. Finally, after an agonizing minute or two, Geoff picked his head back up and dazzled Adam with a lopsided grin.

  


"You look good, Kovic." 

  


    Of all things, Adam had suspected that least of all. His cheeks pinkened slightly, and he caught Michael's annoyed huff from the corner of the room. He avoided Geoff's gaze, knowing that the minute he cracked, he'd be struck dumb by the blue orbs. 

  


"Uh thanks. You don't look too bad yourself." 

  


   Geoff beamed at him,"I clean up nicely don't I?" He smoothed down the front of his suit jacket. 

  


      Adam begrudgingly admitted the older man looked good- like really, REALLY good. He drank in the way the navy blue fabric hugged just so, highlighting his broad shoulders and slim waistline with the same helplessness he recalled looking at Geoff with in his youth. Although, he observed with a hint of confusion, the monogrammed letters sewn into the pocket were nowhere close to Geoff's initials. 

  


   "Boss, the job-"

  


"Calm down Michael," Geoff snapped at the curly haired man, his sunny and flirty demeanor gone,"I'm getting to that! Can I not have a minute to catch up with an old friend? I haven't seen him since he was just a fuckin kid." 

  


    Adam swallowed uncomfortably; he wasn't too keen on Geoff just laying out their history like that. He  was  relieved that Geoff at least had the decency to only refer to Adam as a "friend". 

  


"Glad you got rid of that shitty haircut." Geoff added lightly, all smiles again.

  


     It was scary, how Geoff could just flip a switch and act completely different. It reminded him of the grim attitude Joel took on while they were "doing business". One second, the man was hopping, bopping, and trilling show tunes, and the next, Joel would become silent, stern, and would only speak in this smoky, southern tone that did.....things to Adam. 

  


"And you kept yours." He replied, gesturing to the man's bed head, caveman-esque dark hair going in five different directions.

  


Geoff burst into loud, musical laughter, blue eyes twinkling in shameless delight,"Fuck, I missed you, Kovic!" Michael heaved another long suffering sigh, and Geoff's demeanor switched," But, Michael's right, we're not here to sit around and braid each other's hair."

  


".....So, why am I here?" 

  


Ryan and Michael both laughed at that, and Adam just KNEW that couldn't possibly be good. Geoff raised an eyebrow:

  


"You remember how shit my life was when we met, Kovic? I could barely afford booze, let alone pay my rent. You know better than anybody else, how I used to take the most dangerous odd jobs for fat cats looking to keep blood off their hands. I'm not that guy anymore, Kovic. I mean, obviously; look at me! Now  I'm  running this town, and I don't appreciate you and your boy toys trying to supercede me."

  


"Sorry?" Adam said sarcastically, cringing internally as Geoff's nostrils flared. 

  


"You boys have been a real big pain in my ass, stealing our most well guarded files,doing our heists before we have the chance to. It's like you're begging Ryan to slit your throats."

  


     Adam's hands balled into fists by his sides, defenses rising at the threat of violence to his boys. Beat the shit out of him, fine; but you'd better not touch a single damn hair on his boyfriends heads. That was when easy going Kovic dropped the nice act and pumped you full of lead. But, Adam had had years to practice swallowing his anger(amongst other things...), and he did so now: 

  


"We've still got your files,jobs preplanned up to next year, and we'll distribute them to the public before you can say 'dicks''. You'll  be out of business for a good long while, and I just don't know if you can bounce back from that,  Ramsey ." 

  


       Geoff blinked at him as though shocked that Adam had actually attempted to stand up for himself. Well, Adam had grown up, and he wasn't  some stupid love sick kid anymore. Alright granted, he was now a lovesick ADULT, but that was something he had control over. 

  


"You're right, Kovic." Geoff spoke into the silence, leaving Adam shocked yet again. Was Geoff actually acknowledging Adam's opinions? Was that even possible? 

  


"I am?"

  


"Yeah. As much as I'm sure Ryan and Michael would love it if I told them to tear you all to itty bitty pieces, I know that's not...practical. And, as fucking annoying as you are, I appreciate the balls you boys must have to pull the stupid shit you do. That's why you're going to work for me." 

  


   Shocked didn't even  touch  the emotion the rippled and rang in Adam's head. His mouth felt completely devoid of saliva, and his tongue felt dead and useless inside his skull. 

  


"W-Wha-wha-"

  


"Of course, that means that we'll be taking our cut of the profits-which we should've been doing all along- and you'll have to keep up communication with us before you go out and hit anyplace up." 

  


    Michael didn't even try to hide his laughter at Adam's semi-horrified, semi-awestruck facial expression. Ryan seemed to be trying to ward off a grin himself, and Geoff's eyes held that feverish glow that sent icy shivers down Adam's back. He wished he had one of his boys to ground him again, and give him back the words he needed to express how thoroughly he detested that course of action. 

  


"Why the hell would we do that?" He finally forced out, ripping his dark eyes from Geoff's and zeroing in on the wall in front of him, "B-by the time you've divvied up the cash, they'll barely be enough for any of us!"

  


"Yeah, I won't lie; the pay will be shitty, and we'll probably only put you on the most dangerous, risky as fuck jobs that even MY boys wouldn't take. But, we'll also let you live. So there's that." Geoff's shark-like grin served as confession enough that he knew just how utterly trapped he had Adam, and that he was also enjoying this immensely. 

  


Oh, and did Adam mention he had a deadly fear of sharks? 

  


"I-uh, and what if we refuse?" He tried his hardest to sound tough and steely, but panic bled into his tone and made his words wobbly and stuttered. 

  


Geoff's eyes flashed neon for a second as Michael strut forward like some sleek, deadly thing"Well, then, Mr.Kovic," Michael leaned in a little too close, puffing hot breath in Adam's face," we'll just drag one of your boyfriends up here, and see if they could help me persuade you to...reconsider. Maybe that sniper with the pretty face-"

  


       Adam was on his feet in an instant, deep brown eyes ablaze. Michael took a couple steps back, laughing with a hint of nervous tangled in the bravado.

  


"Try it and you die!"

  


"Woah, woah, Kovic! Take it easy, man, I was just joshin' ya!" He continued to laugh at Adam's bloodthirsty glare, delighted to have pushed a button. 

  


"Take it easy?! You just-" 

  


    Adam snapped his own train of thought in two, letting the words "threatened one of my boyfriends" die in the air. Had Michael called the others his boyfriends as a joke, or was the jig really up? Fear pulsated in Adam's veins thick and sluggish at what that could mean, and with the fear increasing, the fury he felt faded slightly. 

  


"Just what, Kovic?" Michael's chocolate eyes danced,"exposed your deep, dark secret?? How fucking blind do y-"

  


"Alright Michael, he's had enough." Geoff said firmly, his own eyes narrowed in Adam's direction, and a frown on his lips. 

  


"But, Boss-"

  


"How about you and Ryan take a walk, Michael. Check up on our other guests and make sure they're not getting any brilliant ideas." 

  


      Ryan nodded obediently, all of the sass and sinisterness from before gone completely in the face of Geoff. Ryan made a motion with his head for Michael to follow him, and Adam began to protest as the pair started to make their exit:

  


"NO, I don't want that asshole anywhere near them!" 

  


"Won't touch 'em." Ryan tossed over his shoulder casually, as if he were discussing the weather. 

  


"Pinky promise." Michael added in a child-like voice, his manic giggles carrying down the hall after him, and filling Adam's stomach with an aching pain. He turned wide, desperate eyes on the only other man in the room, who still appeared to be trying to dissect his brain telepathically, 

  


"Geoff!" 

  


"Relax, Kovic, he knows better than to step out of line. Your crew-or should I say, my crew- is safe. Well, so long's they don't provoke him. Jones has a temper, you might have noticed." 

  


      Adam loved his boys more than anything, but he wasn't confident in their ability to be polite and cordial, especially when Spoole wasn't here to set the example, and Peake wasn't here to give them that "tough love shove" some of them needed in order to play well with others. 

  


"We have a couple of details to hash out, Mr. Kovic, so you'll be here for a little while. I suggest you get comfy while my Right-Hand Man, and my Tactics guys get here." 

  
       Adam gnawed on his cracked, chapped lip, gaze glued to the locked door. He detested this feeling of overwhelming powerlessness; it was why he'd left his original crew in the first place. Adam wasn't exactly the religious type, but he sent up a prayer that his lovers were alright. He had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious, more will be revealed about Adam and Geoff's past relationship throughout the story. Also, chapter three will (finally) be focused on the rest of our tiny angsty funhaus lads :D


	3. James is a Gay Baby

      Hazel eyes flickered around the dingey cell with a defeated sort of curiosity, lingering on the dirty faces of the fallen FH Crew. Lawrence squinted, trying to catch a sliver of James' expression, but the usually chipper man was hiding his face in his arms. That concerned Lawrence quite a bit; a quiet James was usually an upset James. Understandable, but not what Lawrence wanted to see. 

  


    Bruce stood somewhat separated from the group, and the tall man was grinding his teeth something fierce. Lawrence's teeth hurt just  listening  to it. Bruce's eyes kept going back and forth to the others, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. The broad idiot clearly wanted to be comforted, but didn't know how to ask for it. Lawrence rolled his eyes internally, and moved on to Joel. 

  


    Joel had somehow managed to make himself look twice as small (and the theatre nerd was already just a sliver of a thing) by tucking his knees under his chin and hugging his legs tightly. His handsome face was scrunched up in what was commonly referred to as Joel's "Thinking Face." Usually, Lawrence found the pursed lips and wrinkled brow adorable, but in this context it was just sort of irritating. For the millionth time, Lawrence wished he could look inside his boyfriends' heads. 

  


          Lawrence tried to prioritize who needed what first, because that was just the sort of person he was. If there was a need that needed to be met, Lawrence would fulfill it. Joel wouldn't want to be bothered or "babied" in such an intense and meta cognitive state, so as much as Lawrence wanted to help him, it would do nothing but agitate and anger. Bruce he was never quite sure about; he was either about to pop off and start cursing at the top of his lungs, or he was on the verge of crumbling. Decided, Lawrence crawled over to where James remained on the floor, still with his face hidden from the rest of them. 

  


"James?" 

  


     He got no response, and Lawrence was really starting to get concerned. James was almost NEVER silent, not even when he was goddamned sleeping. Did he possibly have some head injury that needed taking care of? He tried again:

  


"James? Sweetheart?" 

  


   His heart fluttered in relief as James finally emerged from behind his thick arms, as Lawrence knew he would. James loved being called any sort of sickly sweet pet name, especially by Lawrence, who was more likely to show his affection physically, and usually left the goopy shit to Bruce. His one good eye was an angry red, evidence that he'd been holding  back stinging tears. It startled Lawrence slightly. James Willems never cried; not about the serious stuff. No, no the big dork usually reserved his tears for more important things , like anime series finales. 

  


"We got too big"  he spoke in the smallest of voices, emotions tearing the words into ragged pieces. 

  


Lawrence frowned, placing a big warm palm on the other man's knee,"What was that, sweeth-"

  


"WE GOT TOO BIG!" James repeated in an angry shout, jerking away from Lawrence's firm touch, "We fucked up, Lawrence, and now we're paying for it! And Adam....god, they could be doing anything to him up there! What if they're torturing him, or worse! Wh-what if he's-he-he's..." 

  


     The tail end of the horrible thought was lost in a sob, and now all of the captured members of the crew were focused on him. You could physically see the ice melting in Bruce's eyes as he rushed over, sitting on his haunches beside Lawrence. 

  


"Hey, hey." Bruce spoke in the most gentle, soft tone of voice, the one he usually used whenever one of the guys was having a shit day, or the stress of their dangerous-as-fuck job got the best of them. He reached up to hold James' wet face in both hands, thumbs automatically finding his high cheekbones and brushing them with feather-light touches,mindful of the dark purplish bruise that covered his right eye.

  


"We're gonna be alright, sweetheart, and so is Adam. He's a grown man, and we've gotten in stickier situations than this. Remember that time we tried to hijack that yacht last summer?" 

  


Lawrence's words drew a sniffly little laugh from the man as he recalled the memory, "I had nothing but a flare gun. And you were losing your damned mind because we all thought Adam's last words were gonna be 'I'm on a boat motherfucker'."

  


"Yep," Joel chimed in, wrapping his arms loosely around Bruce's neck, pressing his chest into the heat of Bruce's back,"and you lit those fine gentlemen ablaze and then we went for pizza!" 

  


      Bruce mirrored James' small smile, just happy to see the tears drying on his longest-dated boyfriend's face. He chased the lone surviving tear with his thumb, glancing at the moisture there and showing it to James.

  


"I thought you were Mr. Tough guy." He teased, easing a giggle out of him. 

  


"Shut  up. " James mumbled goodnaturedly, falling into their usual shtick without batting an eye. 

  


"Captain Biceps?" Lawrence pretended to pitch to the others. 

  


"Sir James of Bench-A-Lot?" Joel added in his best "Shakespearean" voice. By now they were all laughing, their stress making it that much funnier to them. It helped to dissipate the stench of acrid fear, but Lawrence knew it wouldn't last.

  


       They were in the middle of a very important conversation about what brands of cereal they were going to buy,(the way Bruce advocated for Frosted Flakes made it seem life or death) when the door at the top of the basement steps opened. The four froze, eyes wide as whistling and laughter drifted down, accompanied by footsteps. More than one pair of footsteps, to be more precise. 

  


      Lawrence's gaze flew to where his hand rest comfortably above James' knee, and then to Joel's and Bruce's entwined fingers, and a metaphoric exclaimation point popped up over his head. 

  


"Separate!" He mouthed, hastily removing his touch from the men, and twisting to face the door.  

  


    He ignored the brief flash of fear he saw in James' eyes, and the frustration in Joel's, and he pretended like he never saw the hurt that was clear on Bruce's face. It sucked, having to keep their loving relationship on the down-low, but the other guys didn't understand how dangerous their happy, seven man relationship could be. Lawrence had tried to gather as much research on FAH as he possibly could when this "heisting their heists" nonsense began; he hadn't found anything about political beliefs or morality. And, what he found so beautiful and pure and amazing could be (and HAD been) viewed as disgusting or sinful by them. So, yeah, as much as Lawrence would love to make out with Spoole on a public park bench, or wrap Joel up in his big coat when the days were too cold, Lawrence's first priority was always to keep them safe. 

  


"Failed step one." He thought darkly as Ryan and Michael waltzed towards them. 

  


       "I'm counting four." Ryan said to Michael, who studied them all with an uncomfortably analytical eye. The man who, two hours before, had been threatening to blast Lawrence's brains out, hummed and moved closer, until his chest was nearly pressed up against the bars. 

  


"How are you guys feeling?" 

  


The four of them blinked back because, that was kind of a stupid fucking question now, wasn't it? 

  


"Where's Adam?" Bruce countered with a question of his own. "Where is he? Is he okay-"

  


"Relax babies, Daddy's fine." Michael joked cruelly, slurring some of his consonants as though he were cooing at small children. 

  


"Nope! Wrong guy." Lawrence thought wryly, but he didn't dare say it out loud. He was sure the rest of them were all thinking it, and by some miracle, they all had enough sense to not mouth off to the biggest Ass-Kisser in Fake AH. 

  


"Hey," Ryan spoke up," how's his eye?" 

  


    He pointed at James, whose vision instantly zeroed in on the taller man's bruised knuckles. He put two and two together, and tried to press himself further into the wall. Without the skull mask, Haywood looked oddly like some suburban dad, and James wouldn't have been afraid of him if he saw him on the street. It was kind of hard for him to grasp his fear of the man even now, though instinctively he knew this had been the guy that grabbed him during the ambush. The half smirk on Ryan's face told him that Ryan remembered him too. 

  


"We're fine, thanks." Lawrence spoke for him, hoping to draw attention away from the frightened man. Ryan's gaze didn't waver from James, but Michael's did. 

  


"Really? You better be sure, 'cause if one of you has an infection or some shit, my boss will have my ass. And not in the good way." 

  


The good way? What good w-

  


Oh. 

  


   Lawrence's clever mind came to an impossible conclusion, the kind that only happened in ice-cream-before-bedtime dreams, or quirky sitcoms. Could it be? Was Jones...gay? 

  


       He made a list in his head: Daddy jokes, ass jokes, ass-KISSING, referring to grown-ass men as babies....dear God! It all stacked up! 

  


"Oh, you're gay!" Joel blurted, almost as if he'd read Lawrence's thoughts. 

  


    Everyone in the stuffy basement stilled, in fact, time itself appeared to be petrified in shock as it awaited Michael Jones' reaction. 

  
"Yep, that's it,"  Lawrence affirmed with a nod, " we're all dead." 


	4. Free At Last?

"Bisexual, but whatever, fuckface." 

  


   Each and every one of their mouths fell open, blinking in shock as arguably the toughest, and most destructive member of LA's gang scene admitted that "yeah he liked to bang dudes too sometimes". I mean, obviously they got it. 

  


     Joel's mouth kept starting to form words, but no sound came out, as if his brain was flipping through one hundred different topics. 

  


"Ryan, you SURE you didn't break this one?" Michael huffed, rolling his eyes. 

  


"Nah." Was, yet again, the only non-committal response the other man made, his eyes STILL trying to press James into the dust bunny littered floor. THAT concerned Lawrence. 

  


    Their banter was interrupted by a sigh, as the upstairs door opened for a second time now. The Funhaus boys' hearts lifted as Adam trudged down the staircase. A manila folder was in his right hand, a set of keys in his left. 

  


Bruce couldn't help himself from exclaiming,"Adam!" in his excitement. 

  


      Adam gave them an awkward little wave, clearing his throat and gesturing to the man following directly behind him. Lawrence frowned at the sharply dressed man, not quite certain he knew who he was. There wasn't really anything too noteworthy about him, save for his eyes (which honestly paled in comparison to the pair HIS boyfriend had, thank you very much). Tattooed peeked out from the navy blue sleeves, clique snakes and anchors and a compass or two thrown in there. Lawrence wriggled an eyebrow at Adam, asking for an explanation. 

  


"Guys, this is Geoff Ramsey. He's the leader of the Fake Achievement Hunters, and he's...we've decided to work together." 

  


"What? Adam-"

  


"That's...that's crazy talk!" 

  


"You DO remember that these were the guys who fucked us up real bad before, right?" 

  


Adam's expression darkened, and he bared his teeth at them, "I DON'T FUCKING CARE." 

  


    He snarled, instantly stemming the flow of complaints and protest from the others. Geoff crossed his arms smugly, as Lawrence and the others questioned their boyfriends sanity. The hell was Adam thinking?? 

  


"The hell are you thinking?" Lawrence nearly-screamed, losing his cool for a moment. Okay, usually Lawrence was able to understand the strategic moves Adam made, but this one was throwing him for a loop. They'd HURT his boyfriends! 

  


"Lawrence, we can talk about this in the car, but right now-"

  


"No! No 'in the car', save it for later bullshit! Adam, we want the truth now-" 

  


"Lawrence, stop." Bruce cut him off. 

  


   Lawrence rounded on him, eyes wide. Bruce wasn't even looking at him though; all of his attention was focused on Geoff. And there was something there in Bruce's expression that told Lawrence that shutting up might be a good idea. 

  


"That one's the smart one." Ryan commented, his eyes finally leaving James, and going to his Boss's. 

  


     Lawrence loathed being talked about like an animal or as if he wasn't in the room, but he said nothing. But oh boy if Adam wasn't going to get an earful on the ride home! 

  


"Yeah, maybe." Was as Geoff said, before giving Adam some weird pat on the back that Lawrence would rather not analyze. 

  


    Obediently, Adam stepped up to the cage's entrance, and unlocked the door in tense silence. He offered them each a weak smile, but only Joel reciprocated. The others varied from nonplussed to pissed off.  The entry way swung open with a horrible creaking sound, and Adam stepped back to let the others through. 

  


"Well, it's nice to see you're still alive, I guess." James mumbled under his breath as he passed Adam. 

  


"I guess." Adam whispered back. 

  


      The now "free" Funhaus Crew stood before them, not yet aware that the shackles on them were even tighter than they'd imagined. They, in fact, probably had more freedom when they were sitting in the cage. 

  


"Alright, Kovic, I guess that's it then," Geoff clasped his hands together, smiling sunnily at the sour bunch, "we'll be in touch." 

  


* * * * * 

  


      They waited restlessly on the curb until a stunning redheaded woman came back with their car. 

  


"These your wheels?" She asked, tossing the keys at Lawrence. 

  


"Er, yeah." Lawrence replied. 

  


She smiled, perching her sunglasses atop her head as she climbed out of the shiny, red sports car. 

  


"I'm Lindsay," She threw over her shoulder casually before strutting past them, "welcome to the team." 

  


"Indeed." Joel said curtly, hopping into the back seat after Bruce, fully away that he was a center seat bitch. 'Twas the burden one had to bare when you're blessed with a lithe dancerly body such as his. Lawrence took the drivers seat unchallenged, and Adam simply resigned himself to his fate by slipping into the passenger's side. A steadily bubbling silence finally broke as Lawrence merged onto the highway.

  


"So, enlighten me Adam, what the fuck?" His tone of voice was higher than normal, which was a pretty good indicator that Sirr Larr was not a happy man. Adam knew this to be a fact, and it made him cringe. 

  


"It's complicated, Lawr, alright? And it's not like I wanted to! They were going to kill you! All of you, in fact, and I'm sorry, but I just couldn't allow for that to happen." 

  


More silence followed as the men digested Adam's explanation. 

  


"And, Bruce, you knew this would happen. I'm sorry I didn't listen, alright? Because now, we really stepped in it, and now we've gotten ourselves into a pretty shitty situation." 

  


Bruce looked up at him from under dark lashes, "It's alright, Adam. You didn't know. None of us knew." 

  


"I don't like those guys, Adam." James added quietly. 

 Adam caught his gaze in the rear view mirror and spoke to him directly, "I know, Baby, but we have no other choice. And I... I want you all to know that...that if you want to walk away..."

  


"Fuck that noise." Joel rolled his eyes angrily,"Adam, we're not going to just run away and abandon you or the rest of the Crew! We love you. And that goes for all of us." 

  


     Lawrence shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and didn't take his eyes off the road, but he had to let Adam know that he agreed. 

  


"Yeah. I might be pissed at you, but you're still my goddamned boyfriend and I'm relieved that they didn't hurt you and I missed you. But I'm still pissed."

  


     Adam tuned out everything except for the loving parts of Lawrence's little speech, and smiled wide. Even though this sucked, and Adam was scared out of his mind, he was glad that he had his boys to be there for him. Even if they were "pissed". He laid his left hand palm side up on the cup holder like he always did, and with a sigh, Lawrence held it on his right. 

  


"We'll be okay," Adam said, in a spooky imitation of Lawrence's words earlier, "we'll be fine. We always are." 

  


         Two hours laterled up to their Main Ops, a big log cabin nestled deep in the woods. Peake's truck was already parked in the other space, which had them raising a few eyebrows. It was, after all, about five in the morning. Had they slept there? That was honestly a common thing, whenever they had a particularly grueling job the often found themselves just pulling out the old cots they kept in storage. But it wasn't anywhere near the same as it was in their giant, shared house. The two men must've known they'd all stop at the base first, and were waiting for them. 

  


"God, they must've been worried sick." Adam moaned, as severe guilt plunged  through his heart. 

  


As they made their way up the gravelly driveway, they stopped in their tracks as the front door opened. Spoole stood on the front porch in an oversized hoodie (one of Bruce's) and boxers, brown eyes big and shining. 

  


"Oh my god, you're home!" 

  


Adam was nearly knocked off his feet as his small boyfriend barreled into him, wrapping his pale arms around  his neck and kissing him passionately. Adam watched in dumb silence as Spoole made his rounds, kissing each of the guys with the same passion and warmth,chattering excitedly the whole time, having to get on his tippy toes to get to Bruce. When he was finished, he turned and called Matt outside. 

  


     Adam hunched his shoulders as the smallest of his boyfriends came out, expecting the tongue lashing of a lifetime from the stern man. He waited, but it never came. Instead, Matt reached up and squeezed the back of Adam's neck with a firm, warm hand, deep meaning shining in his dark, dark eyes. They held that eye contact for a good minute, before Peake moved on to Lawrence. When the habitual worrier landed on James, a frown appeared. 

  


"Your eye..." 

  


James looked down at his shoes, suddenly shy (an emotion I can safely say James had never experienced before)," It's nothing, one of the guys just got the best of me for a moment." 

  


The frown intensified, and just like that, James was being pulled into the cabin,

  


"Shut up, I'm getting my first aid kit." 

  


    The rest of them followed, relatively quiet save for Spoole, who was gushing about "wow I missed you guys so much" and "I was really worried, but I knew you guys would make it". Joel smiled and nodded as his boyfriend went on, leading him to the coach and stretching his long legs across Spoole's lap comfortably. This was how they usually sat, except usually Joel would also have his head in somebody else's lap too. As if on cue, Bruce tapped Joel on the shoulder, and slid into his seat, fingers playing with the man's dark curls. They watched in amusement as James was ushered into the love seat, squawking out protests as Matt pressed frozen peas unto his swollen eye and just in general tutted over him. 

  


"Idiot." He muttered fondly, his other hand carding through James' golden brown hair. 

  


"I missed you." James admitted tenderly, pushing up into Matt's touches like a cat. 

  


"I missed all of you too. Sean and I thought...we were so scared, James." 

  


"Yeah," Spoole piped up from the sofa," we're happy to have you back, but...what happened? Adam is still in the kitchen, and Lawrence hasn't come out of his office since you all got home." 

  


    Nobody seemed willing to say it, and break the bad news to their lovers. But, somebody had to be the bigger man, and like always, Bruce found himself in that role: 

  


"It was the Achieve guys, Fake AH or whatever. They were the ones who blocked our transmission and cut you guys off. They...attacked us, we fought but...Anyways. To make a long story short, we work for them now." 

  


"...Oh." Spoole said. 

  


Peake said nothing, in typical Peake fashion.

  


"Yeah,"Joel added, "They took Adam upstairs, he apparently had a chat with their boss, and he came back with a big manila folder he won't let any of us look at. We think it's our assignments or something." 

  


"Hm. Hold up a second." 

  


   They all watched as Matt stood and strode briskly to the kitchen. In under five minute, Adam had gotten his wish of a tongue lashing and was scurrying back into the living room looking for all the world like some schoolboy who'd just gotten whapped on the knuckles with a ruler. Matt Peake had that effect on them (that was partially why they kept him around, beside the Hollister model looks and adoring personality). Adam had barely opened his mouth before Spoole sprang to his feet, motioning for Adam to pause. Again, several pairs of eyes watched as Spoole scurried to Lawrence's office. Without further ado, he threw open the door, and planted his hands on his hips. 

  


"Lawrence! Come join the family meeting." 

  


    Spoole wasn't exactly an intimidating figure-in that he greatly resembled a Disney-animated cartoon squirrel- but Lawrence knew better than to defy his tiny boyfriend. He too slumped reluctantly into the other sofa, arms crossed petulantly. Peake quirked a brow at the childish display; usually that sort of behavior was by Tweedledee and Tweedlesmartass. 

  


"Alright Adam, let's hear it then. Every word." Matt urged Adam on firmly. 

  


"Yeah, let's hear it!" Lawrence parroted. 

  
Adam heaved a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and began. 


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for description of violence, TW for panic attack

  


     When Geoff and he had first started hashing out details, in the beginning things hadn't seemed half but. But, as it went on and on, the "agreed upon" terms got worse and worse. 

  


"Right, so, basically Ramsey's main point is that he wants to keep an eye on us," Adam started to explain,"and make sure that he gets his share of the profits." 

  


"I'm guessing based on the sound of your voice that he didn't go for the fifty-fifty split?" Joel commented dryly. 

  


Damnit, Joel, why did he have to be so clever? 

  


"Um, yes, but-" 

  


"So what IS the percentage then, sixty-fourty?" 

  


Adam scratched the back of his neck,"Er...no. We get a quarter of the-"

  


"Holy shit, Adam!" Lawrence exclaimed, cutting him off. 

  


"Babe. How did you fuck it up that much?" Matt groaned, head in his hands. 

  


Adam was starting to get damn sick of repeating himself, "I didn't 'fuck it up'; we had no choice, remember? You don't understand, Matt, if I didn't agree with whatever conditions Geoff drew up, he was...he would have Haywood kill them." 

  


      James shivered at the mention of his attacker, and no one dared comment on it. Their...takedown was still fresh in their minds, and all in all it hadn't been a pleasent experience. In fact, they'd pretty much been positive they'd meet their end in that goddamned bank. When they closed their eyes, they could still hear Bruce losing his shit, because the bastards had interrupted their communication devices, and he thought he wouldn't get to tell Spoole and Matt goodbye. 

  


"A quarter of our usual profit," Bruce repeated quietly,"shit. Adam, man, I don't do this for my health. And I don't like those guys one fucking bit. The way they talk, they walk, and the looks they gave some of us..." 

  


      Lawrence and James nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Spoole nawed on his lip, looking more nervous than usual. Joel heaved a sigh and stood up. Adam blinked in surprise as his boyfriend placed a hand on his shoulder, shooting him a supportive look, before addressing the others.

  


"Right, so this sucks, I get it. Lord knows it's not going to be fun watching that kind of cash slip through our fingers. But there's no use complaining about it. It's a shitty situation, sure, but at least Adam got us out of that hellhole alive. I thought-" Joel paused, emotions creeping into his voice. He shook his head to ward them off, "I was sure we would die in that stupid basement. Guess what; we didn't. And I'm pretty happy about that, aren't you?" 

  


      The group mulled over that for a bit, alebit reluctantly, not wanting to relive those thoughts and feelings. But Joel had a point (he was usually right when it came to things like this). They'd lost the war they'd been asking for for a year now, and that sucked major balls, but they were home now. They were tired and ached all over, and they probably wouldn't sleep very well, but at least they could lay in each other's arms uninterrupted. The Funhaus Crew had each other; that was more than most people in this godforsaken city could say. 

  


"You did everything you could." Lawrence spook in a hushed voice, getting to his feet, and placing his hands on Adam's shoulders, "I've been more of an asshole than usual." 

  


Adam took a hold of one of Lawrence's hands and brushed his lips along his knuckles sweetly, "You blame yourself for the ambush, even though you know it's dumb. And you're not an asshole."

  


"Debatable," James joked, rocking to his feet as well, "but, who cares? Let's go home."

  


* * * * *

  


      James hopped out of the shower much slower than usual, lingering in front of the mirror and poking at his bruised lid. He winced, feeling like an idiot for expecting anything less, and pressed his weight into the counter. He didn't want to go out there and face his boyfriends just yet; they'd be able to read him if he went out there now. They didn't need James' melodramatic bullshit, and so he took the time to glare at his reflection and force the fear down. He was a man, goddamnit, a big muscular tough guy who didn't get pushed around unless he felt like it that day. And yet, Haywood was getting to him. 

  


     Correction: Haywood HAD gotten to him already. James had done his fair share of homework on the Fake Achievement Hunter's, and he'd always been...underwhelmed by The blurry snapshots of Haywood. 

  


"Ooh, creepy mask." He'd once snarked to Bruce, who never liked to induldge James' jabs at their competetitors. 

  


"Dude, don't joke around like that," he'd warn James with paranoid eyes,"that guys fuckin crazy!"

  


       And, yeah, Bruce was right. Haywood WAS fucking crazy, nor was the man shy about it. Jones might have a higher body count, sure, but they all agreed that Haywood was way worse. Jones would blow up fifty guys without even blinking; but Haywood was more...attached somehow. He would pour gasoline in a heart around the bodies of his victims, or put then in odd positions. Yes, it was clear that Ryan Haywood had a rather macobe sense of humor, and a gut-turning affections for his victims. And, he never left any of his targets alive.

  


Well, now with one exception. 

  


The steam that tickled along the back of his neck felt like thick, leather gloves in James' terror-addled mind, and an ebony skull mask thrust into his view. He can still remember the way the air had been pushed from his lungs as he was yanked back. His back impacted with a loud smacking sound, or had that been his head? Though his vision had gone funny, he could still make out the halloweeny outline of a skull. He thought maybe he heard somebody shout his name (Adam? Or Lawrence maybe?), but for once in his stupid fucking existence, James couldn't utter a single word. Everything in his consciousness narrowed down to the black leather fist that pounded into his face. Over and over again, and James couldn't see and he couldn't breathe and-

  


"Jimothy, aren't you...woah!" 

  


    Joel seized James by the shoulders, and the man trembled violently under his touch. 

  


"Shit! Okay, okay, calm down, James. Here, have a seat and just...breathe. Just breathe." 

  


Amazingly, Joel was able to set the big man down on the toilet, rubbing at his bare chest in tight, reassuring circles. 

  


"In for five, out for seven." Joel repeated it a couple of times before James complied, his breaths shaky and exhaulted, but thankfully slowly. Joel knew what to do in this situation; he'd been there many times before. He was silent, continually rubbing the damp, frightened man's skin until, finally, James had calmed down. 

  


Dull blue eyes looked up at him, tormented and wild, "Sorry." 

  


"No!" Joel spoke louder than he'd meant to, correcting his volume before he continued,"never sorry, not about this. Never about this, James. I'M sorry. God, I'm so sorry, James." 

  


The two embraced tightly, the moisture on James' chest soaking into Joel's pajama top, and James brushed his clean shaven face lightly against Joel's stubble. 

  


"But you didn't do anything." James attempted another poorly conceived joke, pairing it with a weak, sad laugh. 

  


Joel simply shushed him, and began rocking both their bodies back and forth, nothing sexual about it. After an awkward moment with his arms down by his sides, he moved them up to Joel's back, and pressed him even closer into his body. There was no way in hell he'd be able to sleep like this, so James simply stared at the peeking sun, as dawn began to fade into morning. 


	6. This is so Domestic I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of action y'all. For a GTA V AU, there sure seems to be a lot more cuddling. And Katy Perry. Also, lemme know if you caught my (SUPER subtle) IG reference ;)

  


     Bruce always liked to get up early, capture or no capture, and so he was pretty much used to spending breakfest alone. This was why he nearly screamed like a prepubescent girl when Lawrence waved at him from his seat on the couch. 

  


"Oh! You're up early." He commented, eyebrows knit together. 

  


    If anything, Lawrence was always the LAST one awake. This explained the often rumpled hair (though all of the guys had admitted at one time or another that it was kind of hot) as Spoole and Joel nagged him out the door. The laptop's glow highlighted his tired face, light coaxing out the first hint of a wrinkle around his eyes. 

  


"Laugh lines." Bruce's brain supplied, and something in his chest clenched. What he wouldn't give to hear Lawrence's full-bodied laughter right now. 

  


"Gotta go to sleep first if you wanna be up." Lawrence chuckled, rubbing his eyes. 

  


    Bruce looked down at his scrambled eggs, lightly salted and peppered just like he liked them, and sighed. 

  


"Want eggs?" 

  


     Lawrence blinked up at him, "Sure. Thanks, Bruce." 

  


     Bruce smiled, bent down, and pressed a kiss to Lawrence's unmarked temple.

  


"Any day, Mr. Sonntag." 

  


* * * * * 

  


      When Adam was younger, his parents had owned two asshole cats who thought they owned the place. In those days, Adam would sometimes wake up with weight pressing into his chest and panic, knowing that if he moved, he'd be scratched bloody. Now, Adam wondered how he woke up in a frighteningly similar situation everyday, by his choice no less. 

  


"Spoole." He droned, still mostly asleep, trying to move his tingling arms. 

  


"Spoole, please?" 

  


    Spoole simply sighed, pressing his serene and peaceful face further into the crook of Adam's neck. Adam opened his mouth, deciding to go for a third time, when a hand smacked him lightly in the chest. 

  


"No." Peake mumbled, tightening  his hold on Adam's waist. 

  


"C'mon, pretty please? My arm's-" 

  


"Matty said no, or weren't you listening?" Spoole spoke directly into his skin, making Adam shiver, and giggle slightly. 

  


"Do not pass Sean, do not collect two hundred dollars." Matt added, and both men chuckled sleepily. 

  


    Adam rolled his eyes, unable to keep the giant, sappy grin from hurting his cheeks a little. Was his really his life? How did Adam have it so- 

  


    He sat up abruptly, making Spoole whine and leaving Matt grappling at thin air. Lazy, half lidded eyes pierced through the dimly lit bedroom, as Adam remembered that he in fact DID NOT have such a perfect life. Perfect boys, maybe, but a perfect life? Far from it. 

  


"Something wrong?" Spoole asked softly, shifting his weight on to his elbows so he could look at Adam properly. His messy, short hat hair was always too much for Adam, even with the rising hysteria and all, so really he had no choice but to gather the smaller man into his chest. 

  


"Only everything." 

  


"Oh yeah, I forgot." Spoole whispered, fingers nervously playing with the too long sleeves of his-Bruce's- hoody. 

  


"What do you our first mission's gonna be?" Matt asked.

  


Adam puffed a sigh into Spoole's messy hair, nuzzling him like was some lifesized stuffed animal, "Something awful, probably. Burn down an orphanage full of kittens, maybe." 

  


"That's the spirit." Matt muttered, but didn't push it. He wasn't a button pusher like James. 

  


"...isn't that the pound?" 

  


Both bearded men stared at Spoole in a deep confusion.

  


"A kitten orphanage...isn't that just the pound? Or, er, the shelter?" 

  


They both chuckled as Spoole flushed, shrugging awkwardly. 

  


"Well, I dunno! Adam you're the one who came up with the dumb idea!" 

  


"'Course." Adam acquiesced, ruffling Spoole's hair fondly. Still chuckling slightly, Adam stretched an arm out to the bedpost and retrieved the hat hanging there. Plopping it on his boyfriend's head, Adam yawned and heaved Spoole's weight unto his hip.

  


"C'mon, I want eggs." 

  


Spoole giggled as Adam swung both of them from the bed, waving "goodbye" to Matt, who simply watched them go with a fond, gentle smile. Matt laid back against the pillows with his eyes closed, taking advantage of the rarest thing in Funhaus' lives: silence. Methodically, he tried to keep track of where all his boyfriends were; he knew their mannerisms by now. Bruce was no doubt on the kitchen, making himself eggs lightly salted and peppered, and he knew Adam and Spoole-as one, giggling massive entity- were lumbering towards him.

  


"The Katy Perry will start up in a few minutes, of course." He spoke to himself quietly, shaking his head happily. 

  


    And if Joel wasn't here, he was probably sitting out on the porch, sipping tea like Granny Peake. And obviously, Lawrence was still asleep. Matt rolled his eyes and reached out to pat across the giant expanse of their king size bed, and froze when he didn't touch near scorching skin ( Lawrence was like a human furnace when he slept). 

  


"Larr?" 

  


       Come to think of it, he didn't remember James getting into bed either. Despite himself, Peake grew agitated. Ever since they'd come home, Peake had officially declared that none of them were leaving his sight ever again. Less than four hours had passed, and he'd already managed to lose track of two of them? 

  


     Suddenly, he heard a thud and a pained groan coming from the bathroom. The tension in Matt's shoulders dissipated as relief flooded his system. 

  


"Oh! They're just having sex." 

  


      Laughing under his breath, Matt tiptoed to the master bathroom door, and pressed his ear to the buttery wood's surface. 

  


"Gah, sorry." 

  


     He raised a brow at Joel's apology. Joel too? And why the hell would he be apologizing? Now more hesitant, he knocked on the door. 

  


"Guys?" 

  


"Shit," he listened to James horrible attempt at whispering, "how long have we been in here?" 

  


"Dunno, a few hours. Come in, Matt." 

  


     Oh. Okay, so this was about to be the most cramped romp Matt would ever witness, but if that's what his boys wanted, Matt didn't mind a show every now and then. He rolled his shoulders back, excitement creeping up his spine, and opened the door carefully, not wanting to hit one of them. 

  


      Now, Matt had known these men for several years; he knew what feats they were capable of. So, really, he'd walked into the bathroom expecting virtually everything, except of course, what he found. Both Joel and James sat, Joel fully clothed and James in a towel, and the shower curtain had fallen unto them. 

  


"Um." 

  


"Er, sup, Matt?" Joel blinked at him, trying his hardest to pretend he thought this was a perfectly normal thing to do. 

  


"...did you two sleep on the toilet?" 

  


James cleared his throat, "That...may be a possible thing that happened, yes." 

  


Matt looked at them for a long second, turned on his heels, and said, "Alright, I won't ask then. Bruce is making eggs. Come down whenever you're...through." 

  


      He ignored their stuttered explanations with a roll of his eyes; he really didn't want to know. For once, Matt was a-okay with being left in the dark on this one. 

  


      He padded barefoot into the livingroom, a rather off key and enthusiastic cover of Teenage Dream, by Funhaus' very own Kovic, Greene, and Poole, drifted in from the kitchen. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he spotted Lawrence on the couch with his headphones on, to block them out. He waved a hand, and Lawrence pulled one of the speakers from his ear. 

  


"Morning." 

  


Peake nodded, "Mm. I thought you were having sex with James in the bathroom."

  


"Well, it's not like that's a rare occurance." Joel interjected as he bopped into the room. 

  


"That IS true." James agreed, now dressed, and all bashfulness gone.

  


     Without warning him, James plopped himself unto Lawrence's lap, holding the man's precious laptop up and away. He hooked his arms around Lawrence's neck and blinked his big blue eyes up at his exhausted boyfriend, "it's 'cause he can't get enough of me, right Lawrence?" 

  


"You got it, buddy." Lawrence muttered, trying to read his emails over James' head. 

  


    James pouted a bit at being ignored, but his spirits lifted as Spoole walked through the entry way, painstakingly balancing a heaping plate of eggs. He made grabby hands at Spoole. 

  


"Ooh, eggs!" 

  


"NO, James, those eggs are for Spoole!" Bruce shouted from the kitchen. 

  


James got to his feet, expression giving off the appearance of anger, but the man's shit eating grin ruined the illusion, 

  


"What? You aren't even looking at me right now! How-"

  


His blue eyes lit up in delight as a pan was smacked down on the stove top. Bruce marched into the room with an all-knowing, and not buying it, face: 

  


"You act like I don't KNOW you better than you know yourself, which I do. Your eggs are up next, after Adam's. Idiot." 

  


"Hey, I know what you are but-" 

  


"Shut up!" 

  


* * * * * 

  


    Lazy morning gave way to stressed afternoon as Adam silently placed Ramsey's first order on the coffee table and went to go get dressed. It was sort of a cowardly move, but Adam just really didn't want to be there when his boys read the papers. 

  


"Hey," Lawrnece knocked on the doorframe, holding one of the pages in his hand,"so...this is..." 

  


"Dangerous. Our most dangerous heist yet I'd say."

  


"I'll contact Ms. Bacon for more firearms."

  


Adam nodded, pulling a sweater over his head. The day was hot, but James liked to keep their air conditioner in the cabin on Arctic Tundra. 

  


"For this kind of...complex gig, tell Bruce I think we may need some of Turbid's expertise as well." 

  


Lawrence's eyes went wide, and his mouth hung open, "E-Explosives? Adam, if anything this sounds like a meet and greet." 

  


Adam's dark eyes flashed and he reached up to squeeze Lawrence's bicep, 

  


"Ramsey doesn't make allies with just anyone. If he wants us to meet his little side projects, then they're going to want to intimidate us. We have to prove our lives are valuable to them, otherwise they'll just let us die out there." 

  


Lawrence nodded, showing Adam that he understood and that he would handle arrangements with the utmost seriousness. 

  


"Do you want me to brief the others real quick before we go?" 

  


He thought for a moment before shaking his head, "Nah, according to the papers, Ramsey's sending one of his guys to explain everything."

  


"Oh," all of a sudden Lawrence looked very nervous, "did he say who?" 

  


       Adam shook his head, and knew what Lawrnece was thinking. Honestly, Adam was worrying about the same thing too. Fake AH was a bunch of loose canons, armed to the max at all times. Absolutely everything depended on who Geoff would send to brief them. 

  


"I think I'll get Sizzle on the horn too, just in case." 

  


"Sizzle it? Good call. Get the others, we're leaving as soon as I'm done brushing my teeth." 

  


"Right-o, Bossman." Lawrence saluted him before turning to go search for the others. 

  


"RWBY..." Adam said the gang's acronym to himself, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Maybe the sweater had been a poor choice. "Ramsey's latest group of a-holes." 

  


"No, that'd be us." Joel leaned into the doorway, beaming to show that he was trying to get Adam to laugh. Adam lamely tried a chuckle, and the attempt must not have been a very good one, because Joel took a couple steps towards him. 

  


"C'mon, big guy, let's go. We got work to do."

  


Adam nodded, accepting Joel's outstretched hand, and snorted as Joel smacked a big, wet kiss to his hand. 

  


"Cheer up buttercup!" He ordered as he guided Adam out the door to the boys, who were already sitting in the car and arguing about what radio station to play. 

  
   It felt more like they were going out to run errands rather than meeting yet another violent criminal in a secluded cabin filled with semi-automatics and stacks of cash. Ah well, that's life, ain't it? 


	7. Heart You!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday chapter update! It's my birthday today, and so I indulged in one of my favorite characters in this 'verse: GTA!Meg. Also, cookies for whoever catches the near-millions of YouTube references I made!

  


   The way Roosterteeth worked, as an empire of the crime world, was fairly simplistic. There was the main group, RvB, who absolutely never showed their faces to the public, and then the gang broke off into branches of former independent groups. Ramsey, a former member of RVB, somehow convinced the rest of them to let him  go off and found FAH. After that, upon seeing how Ramsey had methodically taken down any of their competition and charmed then into FAH, the alliances began to snowball. 

  


   Gus, just Gus, was the one who first discovered the identity of one of RWBY's co-leaders, Barb. The cut-throat, near-silent, and highly effeciant group had been zeroing in on virtually all of RvB's targets; sort of like what FunHaus had done but without the fanfare. 

  


       Adam knew next to nothing about RWBY, except that they were masters of their craft, and were not to be trifled with. Apparently, they got into a lot of turf wars, and they'd always come out on top. He also knew that, compared to FunHaus, RWBY was a whole other level. 

  


"Base sweet base." Matt muttered, peeking through the blinds in hopes he'd see Geoff's messenger coming. 

  


Bruce stepped out of the cellar with several semi automatics hanging off his shoulders, frowning down at the piece of paper in his hand.

  


"Am I reading this right, Adam?" 

  


  Adam didn't bother responding, knowing the question was rhetorical anyways. Besides, he had to prepare, so that the FH Crew came off more terrifying and less....well, goofball. He prayed that their high body count would seem bloodthirsty and not accidental (which it was for the most part). 

  


"Think they'll be bigger that us?" James asked, leaning against Adam's desk. 

  


"No, of course not. Nobody's bigger than you, James." Adam muttered with a roll of his eyes. 

  


"Hey!" James shoved him, but grinned toothily,"That's what she said. Or should I say, what YOU said last weekend when I-" 

  


"Alright, alright! I give!" Adam said in between bursts of laughter. "Goddamn, Willems, you better straighten up before Ramsey's pals get here." 

  


"Ugh, I hate acting all heteronormative, Adam!" 

  


"Tell me about it!" Joel shouted from his office down the hall. 

  


"Yeah, well, sorry, but I prefer my idiot boyfriends alive." Adam said, bodily grabbing James by the hips and steering him towards the doorway. 

  


"Go practice glaring or something." 

  


Now standing in the hall, James raised his arms to the sky, "I have a fuckin black eye, Adam!" 

  


"Matt!" Adam requested the help of their smallest- but also strongest- man to carry James away before slamming the door shut. He could hear fading protests and a mixture of different men's laughs as Matt hauled away Adam's dashing but ultimately unwanted distraction.

  


     Shaking his head a bit, Adam looked down at his notes. He'd racked his brain for any information on RWBY or Barb that he may've picked up when he was a young, rebellious teenage gangster. 

  


     "Careful..." He warned himself, " we all know where that train of thought leads."

  


     * * * * 

  


"Blondes or brunettes, Kovic?" 

  


     Adam was fortunate his ears had been tuned into Geoff, otherwise he probably wouldn't have heard the mumbled question over Geoff's shitty radio. Adam took a hit from Geoff's expertly crafted joint (some people were just born talented) and held back a cough as he thought. Adam HATED smoking, it always reminded him of the pungent cigars his dad used to smoke on the weekends. But, Adam did it because he knew Geoff wanted him to. 

  


"Er, neither I guess. I'm not picky. Beggars can't be choosers, yknow?" His awkward chuckles hung limply in the air like damp socks, and Geoff was suddenly sitting up and dialing the volume of the radio all the way down. 

  


"That's not true, I'm sure you get tons 'a bitches, Kovic. I mean, look at you, bet you gotta fight 'em off." 

  


He could feel himself doing that stupid thing where his chest flushes red and travels up his neck as he blinked up dumbly at Geoff. 

  


"You really think so?"

  


     Geoff scoffed, leaning over to yank the blunt out of Adam's sweaty palm. He took a deep inhale, his blue eyes falling shut in bliss, and slowly blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth. 

  


"'Course! Look at you, with your puppy dog eyes and your broad shoulders; you're fuckin adorable dude. Hell, even I'd let you suck me off-"

  


"ADAM!" 

  


     He physically jumped in his office chair as Lawrence swung into the doorframe, effectively killing the rest of that memory and wiping it from his mind momentarily.

  


"Geoff's go-between is here, and I think you're gonna want to see this!"

  


   Standing up, Adam pat his cheeks, and sure enough they were hot to the touch. Lawrence quirked a brow at Adam's blushy cheeks, but decided it wasn't as important as whatever Adam needed to see. He followed a power-walking Lawrence to the windows that framed the front door, where the entirety of Funhaus was attempting to cram their five grown-man bodies into a rather tiny space. 

  


"Holy shit!" Bruce whistled appreciatively, hands plastered to the window surface, smudging it and thus irking Adam. 

  


"What? What is it?? Is he huge?" 

  


"Let Adam see." Spoole demanded, shoving Joel and Matt out of the way so that Adam

had ample room.  

  


     His mouth dropped open as the model esque redhead hopped off her motorcycle, auburn curls bouncing as she pulled her helmet off. As her light brown eyes caught them all staring, she flashed them an impossibly white smile, and gave them a cheesy wink. 

  


"I...did Ramsey send us a stripper?" Lawrence wondered aloud 

  


"Or a supermodel?" Spoole added. 

  


"Y'know, I miss women sometimes." James said, his eyes not leaving the beautiful woman for a second. 

  


"You guys are gross. She's just a woman, and she could probably kill us with her pinky finger." Matt admonished, reaching to open the door. 

  


"Shit that's hot." 

  


      Matt shot them all a warning glare before opening the door, resigning himself to a fate in which-yet again- he seemed to be the only one to recall that these dudes got railed DAILY by other dudes. 

  


"Hi, Ramsey must've sent you. I'm Ma-PEAKE." 

  


Meg lifted a perfectly maintained eyebrow, smiling gently, "Hello MaPeake, I'm Meg. Gonna invite me in?" 

  


     Matt allowed himself to make one last "stare at her chest and we all die bloody" warning face at his boyfriends before stepping aside to let the lady in. They all parted like the Red Sea for the short woman, who flashed each of them a cute little grin as she passed them. 

  


"So, you're Funhaus. Cool, Gav's told me a bit about you guys. And Barb, obviously. Which one of you is Adam?" 

  


   Adam blinked before shuffling forward, extending his palm, and trying as hard as he possibly could not to break the dainty pale hand in his. 

  


"That'd be me. Adam Kovic. It's a pleasure." 

  


"Mhm. Mind if we sit?" 

  


       Like mindless puppets, they all jumped to fulfill Meg's request, flopping down unto the many couches in the livingroom. Chuckling slightly under her breath, Meg dug through her cream colored purse and pulled a second manila folder out. Beaming, she handed it to Adam, and tapped on it with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

  


"My resume, for lack of a better word." 

  


     Adam flipped open the folder curiously, instantly squeezing his eyes shut as his vision was assaulted by blood and gore, the top photograph depicting a familiar dainty palm proudly displaying a handful of bloody teeth. 

  


"What the fuck-" 

  


"Ahh, yeah, that was Stevey! So cute, kinda hipstery, but also a greedy ass who was taking an extra cut from our profits. I made him sing like a bird!" 

  


    The almost dream-like quality Meg had had before curdled as Meg sweetly began to describe the many ways in which she'd make grown men- men who'd faced jail time and had teardrop tattoos- cry like toddlers, and how "cute" they all were. Each man- and even a couple of women- had a perky little pet name (Stevey or Lee-Lee or Shisha), and their stomached were starting to feel more and more cramped as the minutes flew by. Every time Adam wanted it to be over, she'd flip through the dozen or so pictures and earnestly brag about "oh yep, chopped that guys ring finger off" or "she had the CUTEST puppy! When I broke into her high-rise and knocked her unconscious, I just HAD to stop and play for a second or three!" 

  


     After a good half an hour or so, Meg bounced unto her petite feet, rocking back and forth on her ankle booties, smoothed down her midi skirt (which was covered in cartoony owls), and smacked herself lightly on the forehead. 

  


"Oh, I forgot! Sorry boys, I got so busy chatting with y'all that I totally forgot that I'm supposed to brief you guys! Barb is gonna KILL me! Or, at least, she can try." That last part was said with a stuck out tongue and another wink, but that routine had little effect on them now. Where they'd once seen a perky, beautiful women now stood a twisted, merciless torturess. 

  


"It's pretty simple. The guy in the picture clipped to your packet is some new, young guy who's trying to take Senator Burns' position. He's kinda handsome, but unfortunately for Mr. Dimple, Senator Burns' is a friend of ours."

  


"Woah, wait," Joel interrupted her, "the SENATOR is an ally with Roosterteeth?!" 

  


Meg nodded, "You could say that. It makes our lives a lot easier. Ooh, and now YOUR lives too, I guess!" 

  


     This was so much mind-boggling information to take in all at once that Adam could feel a massive headache coming on. Tiny Model has a talent for torture, Senator Burns' is more corrupt than he could've ever guessed; goddamn what was next? 

  


"Anyways so yeah, you'll have to kill him." 

"We what?" James spoke for the first time in what felt like years- in James' standards anyway- eyebrows knit together in discontent. 

   Funhaus didn't like doing hitman like jobs where the only objective was murder, especially since Mr. O'Donovan sounded like he'd never done anything bad in his life, not even accidentally. 

  


Meg giggled, placing a hand on his shoulder, and making a rather intrigued face when he flinched away from her touch. 

  


"You're so cute, James. Kill him! Gus, which is like YOUR Geoff but for us RWBY gals, says he doesn't care how. Stab him, shoot him, whatever you guys think is best. Just remember, if you get caught, not a single fucking acronym passes through your lips, or every person you've even looked at for more than a few seconds is dead, fellas." 

  


     They're bodies felt cold all over as Meg threatened them in that same sweet, and light tone of voice she'd maintained throughout their nightmarish encounter. She snorted when she saw the blood rushing from their faces: 

  


"Oh, don't be like that! I give the same spheal to everybody, in fact I even GOT it from Gavvy when RWBY first joined RT! I have faith on you boys! Besides, it looks like Haywood's already left you a little reminder."

  


    She gestured meanly to James' face, still with that effervescent smile plastered on, and laughed to herself at the still horror-paled faces of the seven. 

  


"Kay, well, that's all I have for now! Heist in 24 hours, babes!" 

  
   She showed herself out while the men remained in stony silence, a pressure sticking in their throats and a shiver sweeping through them all collectively. None of them said a word as Megs hog roared and revved as she took off, dark red waves flying over her shoulders.


	8. Whine and Die(ne)

Bruce made sure he notified all of them before he took his walk, gently declining company when Joel offered it. 

"I'll be back in a few minutes. I just need to clear my head." He'd told them, beaming pure sunshine so that they wouldn't worry. And, usually, that worked fine; they always thought Bruce was doing just fine. 

He wasn't, of course, but it wasn't like he was about to broadcast it, and interrupt his lovers' preparations for the heist. That was irresponsible, childish, and could end up nearly costing them their lives...again. 

Settling heavily unto a park bench, he pressed his palms firmly against his forehead, and forced the prickling feeling behind his eyes to stop. Nobody needed to see a thirty-fucking-four year old man throw some fit all alone in a public park. Even as Bruce told himself this, he could feel some barriers breaking down, and he HATED it. Hissing out a breath, he reached into the pocket of his dark blue shorts and pulled out a picture he'd swiped from their assignment folder. 

The kid, O'Donovan, was leaning over some spaceship shaped cake, and he had one hand around the waist of some pretty, fluffy-haired blonde girl. Both kids, remarkably young if this was a wedding photo, as Bruce assumed, were grinning from ear to ear. Even now, wearing an expertly styled and fitted suit and a deathly serious face, Mr. O'Donovan barely looked like he'd hit eighteen in his campaign photos. And Bruce knew that couldn't possibly be the case, but undoubtedly, the young man was still....a young man. 

Bruce had killed people, shot them out of cop cars or off that yacht; as the more skilled firearms member of the gang he probably had the highest body count. But, this was different. Lawrence had never handed him a folder with bank bodyguards' wedding photos inside it, and a goddamned overview of their entire life. To Bruce, those men were faceless, and knew what they were risking in their line of duty. This dimpled, elfish looking kid hadn't pursued Senator Burns' position because he wanted to start shit. He was an innocent. 

Involuntarily, his thoughts drifted back to the offer Adam had extended in the car. "If you want to walk away..." The offer was really fucking tempting, if Bruce was honest, and for a moment he reached for his cell to call Adam up. But, his resolve lasted for not even a second as his boys crept back into his mind. Bruce was nothing without them, and he barely lasted half a day when one of them wasn't in town before he started texting him. His boys, his lovers, his fucking idiots were what kept Bruce going. And even though Bruce pretended to not put up with their bullshit, each and every one of them had him wrapped around their goddamned finger. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a text message popping up, along with a picture. The text, from Lawrence, read as follows:

"Cheer up MK tournament?? Come home. Lose badly." 

The picture was of the six of them, everyone making a funny face except Adam, who just seemed really judgmental of the whole thing. James was doing his signature "crossed eyed, goodly eyed" thing, Joel was making duck lips, and Spoole and Peake had attempted the classic awkward, half assed "stick out your tongue" face. Lawrence had phoned in one of his greatest talents and his face was contorted in the oddest way possible, barely recognizable as his classically-handsome boyfriend.

Laughing quietly to himself, he quickly typed back, 

"Lose badly YOU will!!!" 

Adam replied to the group chat almost instantly, "k yoda"

Now laughing loudly at his screen (and most definitely frightening anybody near him), Bruce rocked to his feet, and began typing as he walked homeward bound. 

"SHUT UP! I'm the Star Wars nerd, only I get to make jokes like that!!!! >:(" 

"Is that the one with the Starlord??" James added in, knowing how to provoke the best reactions out of their boyfriend. 

"shut your fucking mouth Willems! I'm gonna smack you as soon as I get home" 

Not even half a second later: "Ooh! Yes pls ;)" 

In rapid succession: "JOEL SECONDS!" 

"Me too :))))" 

"We're not playing MK 9 are we? :(" 

Now, Bruce had to pause, bending nearly in half as he laughed, holding his stomach. He sincerely hoped that nobody was walking this way down the sidewalk, because Bruce wasn't sure he'd ever be able to move out of this position. He felt someone tap his shoulder, swiped a tear of laughter from his eye, and used quite a bit of effort to straighten his spine. 

"Hah, sorry man, I was just-" 

The rest of his words flew to the air like a puff of smoke as he found himself nearly nose to nose with Haywood. His phone fell to the ground with an echoing crash.

"Sh-shit!" Bruce scrambled to retrieve the pistol stuffed in the back of his shorts, spotting a second man standing behind Ryan. He was outnumbered, outgunned probably, and most certainly out crazied. 

"Woah, hey, calm down mate!" The second man, British, stated, raising both of his tanned hands to show Bruce that he was unarmed. Frankly, It wasn't the pretty faced twink Bruce was worried about.

"No, fuck you! I don't have any of your fucking money! I-" 

"Calm down buddy, alright? I'm not here to kill you." Ryan explained, his blue eyes wide. 

"Yeah, and I'm here to make sure of it!" The Brit proclaimed, puffing his chest out. 

Bruce was still panicked as he raised an eyebrow. 

"Wha- Ramsey sent YOU?"

Gavin looked down at himself, completely aware that he looked like he weighed 90 lbs soaking wet, and smirked up at Bruce. His sea green eyes were oddly captivating, almost cat-like in shape. 

"You must not know who I am. Gavin Free ring any bells?" 

Bruce shook his head deftly, causing Ryan to bellow into loud laughter as Gavin's face fell. 

"Told you this was the smart one!"

* * * * 

"They didn't have anymore sweet and sour sauce; sorry." 

Ryan placed their plastic tray down as Bruce scrubbed his hands down the length of his face. Was this really happening to him right now? Was he, for lack of a better analogy, REALLY being wined and dined at a McDonalds by two of the most bloodthirsty men in LA?

"One of the RWBY girls, Turney, mentioned you." Bruce offered, not even touching the pile of food in front of him. He didn't DO fast food, especially when there was a really good possibly that Haywood had slipped something in it. 

"She did? Really?" Gavin looked positively elated, slurping his Dr. Pepper rather obnoxiously as Bruce nodded. 

"Lovely, isn't she? True talent for interro., just like me!"

Had Bruce been eating something, he would've spit it out right there and then,

"WAIT, you're Geoff's interrogation guy?"

"So you have heard of me! I prefer interrogation lad. But yep, thats me. I'll scare the bloody bollocks off a' any creep!"

"Either that or you pretend to drop your keys and bend over." Ryan muttered. 

Bruce expected Gavin to get pissed off at such a demeaning and...kind of gross comment. But, the "Lad" just chuckled and pat Ryan's arm fondly. 

"Damn right! My arse has gotten us more intel than your bloody skeleton masks, Rybread." 

Bruce squinted into the straw of his untouched soda, wondering if perhaps he'd just forgotten that he'd taken a swig of the drugged drink. This couldn't be real; first Jones is bi and now Free shakes his ass for the inside scoop? What??

"Gotta piss." Gavin suddenly announced for all to hear before twinkle-toeing off to the men's room. Weird fucking day, weird fucking day....

"So," Ryan nailed him in place with those deep blue eyes, which were made no less piercing by the wireframe spectacles he wore, "how's your boyfriend?" 

Bruce shot him an annoyed look and spread his arms out, because that question could apply to a lot of different people. Six different people actually. 

"Oh right, excuse me. I forgot. I meant-" 

"James."Bruce finished, remembering the weird stare down Haywood had given the man back in Ramsey's Warehouse. 

Ryan smiled, and Bruce started to go hot all over with anger, "So, THAT'S his name. Interesting, it suits him." 

"Sure." Bruce allowed, already feeling that macho-man energy creeping up that he sometimes couldn't help. I know it sounds funny, coming from a man happily centered in a polyamorous relationship, but Bruce HATED whenever someone hit on his boyfriends. And his boys were all fucking beautiful, so this ultimately resulted into Bruce getting into a lot of fights. 

"There's just something about him that...intrigues me. You know he's the only person I've ever laid my hands on that's lived to tell the tale,right?" 

He swallowed, "Well, let's just make sure it stays that way."

"I make no promises." Ryan said darkly as he took a long sip of his Diet Coke. 

"Excuse me?!" 

He chuckled in that creepy way of his, and wriggled his eyebrows as Bruce shot to his feet, eyes blazing. 

"It was just a joke, Greene. Though, I must admit, makes my skin itch leaving loose ends like that. No pun intended." 

"You shut your fucking mouth and don't talk about my boyfriend like that!" He momentarily forgot who exactly he was now shouting at, caught up in protecting James' honor. 

"Joking! Jeez, Greene, if I'd have known you were so touchy-" 

"Listen pal, you're the one who gave him the black eye, and YOU'RE the one who won't shut up about him, alright? AND-" 

Bruce suddenly realized where he was, spotting the cowering and frightened couples staring at them both. One of the cashiers had her hand on the phone. Gavin stood outside the bathrooms with his hands on his hips, not looking all too happy. 

"Perhaps we ought to go." Ryan suggested. 

Bruce nodded once at the nearest worker to let them know he was finished, wiped his hands on his shorts, and slowly walked out of the restaurant. None of them said a word as they hopped into the black van Haywood had driven them there in. Free pulled a notepad out of his pocket and began scribbling furiously. 

"What are you writing?" Bruce demanded tiredly, wishing he was at home fooling around with his boyfriends, mortal kombat soundtrack playing in the background. 

"Just that you're a loose cannon, unstable, and the word covert isn't in your vocabulary." Gavin replied in a clipped tone. It was clear he was nearing the end of his tolerance as well, and Bruce's little fit hadn't exactly placed him in Gavin's good graces. Whoops. 

"Well, maybe you should write down the same thing for your partner." There Bruce goes with his big fucking mouth again, god he's worse than Lawrence at Comic Con! 

"No, never about my lil boi, my Rylind! That being said, the hell did you say to him Ryan? He's pissier than he was in the cell!" 

"Hey!" 

"Nothing! Just mentioned his whore boyfriend-" 

"THATS IT! I'M GETTING OUT OF THIS CAR-" 

"Oi! Both of you, stop that!" Gavin snapped, turning a glare on Ryan, "that's not a word we throw around wiley-niley, mister! And even if Bruce's boyfriend DOES sleep around, how does that make him different than most of us? Are you calling ME a whore? No, I didn't think so! Sorry, Brucey," Gavin glanced back at him through the rear view mirror with a crooked smirk, "we here at RT are more...open minded than most- or at least SOME of us are-, which I guess is a good thing for you blokes." 

Again, Bruce could do nothing but stare open mouthed at him, once again transported to a state of mass confusion by the mind fuck that was Gavin Free. Gavin giggled at his expression, and it reminded him so much of Turney that he started slightly. 

"And yes, that includes RWBY." Gavin added with a big fat wink, "Though, I don't know if you're into that sort. Are you bi or just gay? Pan maybe? I'm a people pleaser myself." 

Bruce REALLY didn't want to discuss sexual history and preference with a guy who pulled out people's teeth for a living sans dental license. Nor did he want to discuss ANYTHING with Haywood, ever. He breathed out happily as the park came into view; finally this nightmare could end. 

"Give your boys a kiss for me when you get home!" Gavin said, waving and beaming at Bruce like they were best friends. 

Ryan snorted, and pulled down his dad glasses so he could look straight into Bruce's eyes,"Oh yes, please do." 

Bruce was still steaming as they pealed out in a cloud of dust and laughter. "God I hate those guys!" He jerked his cellphone out of his pocket and winced at the many, many texts he'd missed. 

"No show? Coward!!!!!" From Joel. 

A very clever and witty "u suck :(((" from Adam

About fifteen goddamn texts about James complaining about his boner. 

About TWENTY texts of Lawrence complaining about James complaining about his boner. 

And one:  
"We still didn't play Mortal Kombat :( " from Matt.

"On my way sorry got distracted." Bruce typed all in a row as he jogged towards home. 

"Did you get distracted by the puppy store again?" Spoole's responding text asked. 

"PUPPIES? Ooh can we get a puppy???" Joel asked, helpfully derailing the conversation, as the man was so apt to do. 

Two simultaneous "no" s from Adam and Lawrence struck up a fight that Bruce knew better than to engage in, especially when Peake started to bring out the whole "I never had a dog before" sob story. As Bruce stopped to catch his breath on the rickety wooden porch, muffled shouts could be heard through the door. 

"For the last time, we're wanted criminals! We can't take care of a pet!" 

"If we're getting a pet, it's gonna be a cat." Adam added, typical of the notorious cat lover. 

"Ew no! Cats are assholes!" 

"Then he'd fit right in!"

"Hello?" Bruce rapped his knuckles on the door as he opened it. 

"Bruce, we missed you!" Spoole squeaked from where he lay, back pressed into the floor as Adam perched on his stomach. Both men had their shirts off, and looking around the room, the rest weren't far behind them.

"You guys were having this argument during a makeout session?" 

"No, don't be stupid! We stopped making out in the middle." James corrected, acting rather normal for someone who's arms were being pinned to his lower back by Lawrence. 

"This is more important." Matt said dryly from his armchair, shirt unbuttoned.

Bruce raked a hand through his hair and slapped his gun down on the kitchen counter. 

"Right, well, we're ABSO-fuckin- LUTELY not getting a cat!" He stated firmly, shucking off his button down, and making a beeline for Joel's pants. 

"Oh come on!" 

"Where?" Spoole giggled, causing the others to howl with laughter. 

"You see what you do?" Matt pretended to scold, but there was a warmth in his eyes that made Bruce feel almost like none of that bullshit with Free and Haywood ever happened. 

But of course, Bruce could only have peace for a minute before Joel was stepping on his toes. The man grabbed Bruce's hands by the wrists and gently removed them from his belt, blinking up at him with worried eyes. And Joel was by no means stronger than Bruce, but he let Joel "take control". 

"Did Meg's words really get to you that much? And be honest." 

Bruce rolled his eyes and tried to extract himself from Joel's grasp, but the look on his cherubic face got Bruce to crumble really quick. 

"Sort of. It's...it's whatever. I guess I just don't like the idea of killing some kid for no good goddamn reason." 

James tapped Lawrence, who took it as his cue to untangle his arms from James' waist. James gracefully rolled so that he was kneeling in front of Bruce on the couch. 

"You don't have to come if you don't want." James mumbled as he nuzzled his head into Bruce's chest, trying to ease his boyfriend's worries. 

"Yeah, I do, idiot." Bruce said fondly, carding through James' hair,"I gotta make sure all my boys make it out okay, don't I?" 

Joel knelt up and cuddled into Bruce's side, pressing as much of his body up against Bruce's. It was a special talent Joel seemed to have down pat.

"Yeah, but we gotta take care of you too." Adam replied, coming around to the back of the couch and taking Bruce's hand. 

"This is a team," Lawrence agreed, "and it doesn't matter what bullshit group is controlling us; at the end of the day, we all stand together. Don't hide shit from us and feed us some bullshit about the puppy store. "

"It's been seven years; you've got to trust us by NOW." Matt reasoned teasingly, moving into the giant conglomerate they oft found themselves forming. This "formation" was why they broke a lot of furniture. Well, that and Drunk!Adam. 

"I'll do it." Joel spoke up suddenly. 

Bruce pulled Joel away from where he'd fastened himself to Bruce so that he could look the man straight in the face. 

"You'll do what?" 

Joel's usually-warm pupils hardened as he nodded once and made sure each of the guys was looking at him:

"I'll kill Ross O'Donovan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funhaus' Texting Styles: 
> 
> Adam: only lowercase (who got time fo' punctuation?? Not this guy) also terrible spelling 
> 
> Joel: LOTS of caps. Pretty much just like my typing style, lots of exclaimations and talking in the 3rd person
> 
> James: just SO many winky faces (does not conform to the emoji) 
> 
> Lawrence: Simplistic, systematic, only puts in the necessary words. 
> 
> Bruce: Perfect punctuation, mixture of all caps and lowercase. Thinks texting is dumb 
> 
> Spoole: the king of ":))))" and ":DDDD" (never just one) 
> 
> Peake: short, sweet, to the point. Very often uses ":(". (Also really likes using the weirdest emojis available in just like...general texts)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very tentative tip toe into the shiphaus fanfic world, so it apologize if characterization is...eh. Hope you enjoy, and hopefully if you guys like it, I'll keep these shenanigans up!


End file.
